Evanescence
by ShadowDanseur
Summary: Something is bothering Clark, and he can't figure out what it is. He stumbles upon something he shouldn't, something that has serious repercussions for someone other than himself. Chlark. Finished.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I'm just using them. Don't sue._**

**_Spoilers: None. Some references to Tempest and Fever._**

**_Author's note: I can't help it, I love the pairing of Clark/Chloe. They have great chemistry, and I am hoping that the producers give Chlark a real good shot before they go into the whole Clois thing. Reviews always welcome! Set sometime around season six._**

He had knocked, but there had been no answer. He knew she was there, but only because he'd cheated and x-rayed the apartment. He'd stood outside for several moments debating over whether or not to disturb her. Normally he would have just barged in without a second thought, but not today. Today he was feeling strange.

He could hear the soft strains of music filtering out from the door; it was soft, slow music and it made him wonder if she was feeling sad today. What she would have to feel sad about he wasn't sure. Finally, he tried the door knob and found it to be unlocked. He opened it slowly, but it made no sound. He took a step into the room, his eyes immediately falling upon her still form seated on the couch. Either she hadn't heard the door or she somehow knew it was him, because she didn't move.

"Chloe?"

The sound of his voice seemed to pull her out of her reverie, because her head whipped around and her eyes met his. For one interminable moment she was unguarded, and a look of quiet pain leaped out at him from her beautiful green eyes. It was gone in seconds, but the intensity of it left him breathless.

"Clark," She said in surprise, straightening up, "What's up?"

It took him a moment to find his voice. He scrutinized her carefully, but that look of pain was nowhere to be found. She was the same Chloe she always was, the same effervescent smile gracing her familiar face.

"You okay?" She asked, noticing his solemn features

"Yeah," He said finally, "Just feeling a little off today. Thought maybe you could use some company for a bit."

"I could always use the company of a superhero," She replied brightly, making him smile

"You looked preoccupied, I hope I'm not interrupting something," He told her as she ushered him over to the couch, "I knocked, but you must not have heard."

"Yeah, I was kinda lost in thought. But you didn't interrupt," She answered, sitting next to him

Her computer was open on the coffee table, but, oddly, there was nothing on the screen. That was odd, especially for his intrepid reporter.

"So what's up?" She queried, "Why are you feeling off?"

Chloe was perched next to him on the couch, her expression open and honest, waiting for his response. She looked great, like she did everyday, in a white tank top with little green flowers that made her eyes look like emeralds. Another surge of the deep unrest that had been plaguing him lately boiled up in his chest.

"I can't explain it, actually," He said sheepishly, "I'll just be doing something and I get the strangest feeling of being …. Unhappy."

She looked taken aback by that. He struggled to find another word for it, another way to explain it that might fit better, but he couldn't come up with one. Unhappy was the truest description that came to mind. He was restless, discontent.

"Unhappy? But … why?" She asked, looking concerned

"That's the catch. I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out for days now, but the answer just won't come."

"Do you think it might have something to do with Lana?"

"Lana? How could she have anything to do with it?"

"Well, past experience shows us that eight times out of ten when you are unhappy it has something to do with our favorite dark haired damsel."

His face broke into a grin then, which seemed to confuse her. It wasn't that he hadn't already thought about that, because it had actually been the first thing he'd thought.

"What?" She asked

"Nothing. It's just … sometimes you say the funniest things," He told her, holding her gaze with his own, "Even the simplest sentences sound interesting when they come out of your mouth."

That made her laugh a little, a light tinkling sound that seemed to dance into the corners of the room.

"Sorry. I guess it's just part of being a writer," She quipped jokingly, "Look, I'm starving. What do you say we go get something to eat?"

"I'd say that sounds like a good idea," He agreed

"Let me grab my jacket and we'll go."

She disappeared into her bedroom. Without the sound of her voice in the room, Clark realized the music was still playing.

_Do you know where your heart is_

_Do you think you can find it_

_Did you trade it for something, somewhere_

_Better just to have it …._

"Ready," Chloe said then

She was standing with the door open , light jacket in her hands.

"Want the music off?" He offered

"Sure," She replied, "Just hit the pause button on my computer."

He did as she instructed and the apartment fell silent. He stood and joined her at the door, smiling.

"So what's for lunch?" He asked

"I'm not sure yet. What sounds good?"

"My mom made lasagna for lunch today," He suggested, "And I'm sure she'd love to see you."

His blonde friend laughed and closed the door behind her.

"Kent farm, here we come."


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Note: I'm a big retard. Once I went back and actually payed attention, Chloe's eyes are blue. I have no idea why I thought they were green. Pardon my mistake ... hope it doesn't ruin the story or anything. Sorry about that guys. _**

Within the hour Chloe had him laughing again, his feelings of restless unhappiness forgotten. They were sitting in the Kent's living room making fun of each other when Martha came home, two big paper grocery bags in her arms.

"Hi, mom," Clark greeted, joining her to help put away the groceries

"Hi, Clark. Chloe, it's good to see you again," She said with a smile

"Likewise, Mrs. Kent," Chloe replied, coming into the kitchen, "Can I help with anything?"

"Of course not," She answered, "I'll put away the groceries. Why don't you two go back to doing whatever it was you were doing."

"You mean making fun of each other?" Clark replied, impish smile on his face

"You were making fun of each other?" Martha repeated

"Well, kinda," Chloe explained, "We were looking through the photo albums and making fun of pictures of us from high school."

Martha laughed and shook her head, red hair falling against her shoulders.

"I happen to like those pictures," She said in her most motherly tone, "They're cute. But my favorite picture isn't in any of those albums."

"What picture?" Clark queried

Martha smiled and winked, then disappeared upstairs. She returned a few moments later with a single, unframed picture in her hand. She was holding it against her chest, so that neither Clark nor Chloe could see it until she showed it to them. Curious, they came to stand next to each other in front of her.

"Before I show it to you, let me just say that you're not allowed to make fun of it. It was your dad's favorite picture."

She handed it to Clark, who took it and held it out and down enough for Chloe to see it too. As soon as he saw it something inside Clark's chest seemed to explode. Next to him, Chloe let out a girly "awe."

"We look so young," She said softly

It was a picture of them from the night of the spring formal, before he had run off to save Lana from the tornado. They were on the dance floor, obviously in the middle of a dance; Chloe was looking up at him, and he down at her, and they were laughing.

"Who took that picture?" Chloe asked, glancing up at Martha

"You know, I'm not actually sure. Jonathan never said where he got it. He kept it in his bedside table."

"Why?" Clark said, finally finding his voice

He searched his mother's face, watched the slow smile that spread across it. She looked both wise and mischievous at the same time, a fact that was not lost on Clark.

"He said it was his favorite picture of you two. You look so young and happy."

For a moment no one said anything, each lost in their own musings. Clark's eyes stayed on the picture, on the way his arm was draped naturally on Chloe's hip. He thought about that night, remembering how frightened he had been for Lana. How, until the announcement of the impending tornado, he hadn't even thought of her.

"Well," Martha said then, "What should I make for dinner? Chloe, you're staying for dinner, of course. I won't take no for an answer."

Chloe laughed and held up her hands.

"Since you're leaving me no choice," She quipped jokingly, "I'd be happy to."

"Good. Now give me back my picture and go find something to do that's not in the kitchen," Martha said firmly

Clark may have protested then, made some excuse to keep the picture and slip away on his own to think about the emotional pain he was feeling, but Chloe was already grabbing him by the arm and smiling in a way he had come to know as the "Chloe has a plan" smile. So he left the picture on the counter and allowed himself to be dragged outside.

"C'mon Clark, it's a beautiful day," Chloe told him in an upbeat voice, "For once let's just enjoy a normal day. One not punctuated with some meteor freak trying to hatch an evil plan."

He laughed again, something he couldn't seem to keep from doing when she was around. Her easy smile was infectious.

"Well, I was thinking about rearranging the loft," He told her

"Really? Sounds like a job for the team of Kent and Sullivan!"

Even Chloe laughed at that and they made their way toward the barn, an easy silence settling between them.

"Oh crap!" She exclaimed suddenly, "Since we're making this a lazy day, there was a story I wanted you to read. It's my next piece for the Daily Planet, and I wanted to see what you thought before I sent it in. There's only one problem."

"What?" He asked, stopping just outside the barn door

"It's on my computer, which is back at the apartment. Could you do me a really big favor and …"

"…And run and grab it for you?" he finished for her, smiling

"Please? I'd go myself but my little Toyota hasn't got anything on you."

"It's on your computer?" He repeated

"Yeah. Just grab it off the table. Oh and grab my power cord too."

"I think this constitutes as friend abuse," He told her, and sped off before she could punch him in the arm, the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears


	3. Chapter 3

He found her laptop exactly where he remembered it to be, sitting idly on her coffee table. He closed it gently and picked it up, turning to go. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something black lying on the floor in front of the couch. He turned back and looked full at it. It was a book, a fairly thick one, lying open on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, intending to close it and put it back on the table when the writing caught his eye. The writing was Chloe's, which surprised him. He had never known that Chloe kept a journal, much less a paper journal. Everything she did was on the computer, or so he thought.

Shrugging off the surprise, the book was nearly closed when one word caught his attention again. His name. _Clark. _Feeling like the worst person alive, but unable to resist, he pulled the piece of paper out of its place tucked between the pages. It was a letter. To him. _…I'm not who you think I am. In fact, my disguise is so thin I'm surprised you haven't seen right through me. I'm the girl of your dreams, masquerading as your best friend._

He caught his breath in an audible gasp. He could feel his heart stop, and then start beating again so fast it felt like it might leap out of his rib cage. His eyes kept dancing back and forth across the words, trying to make sense of them. Trying to figure it out. When had she written this? Why hadn't she ever shared it? More importantly, how had he been so _blind_. How, in all the years they had been friends, had he not know? Was she that good of an actress?

_Of course not,_ A little voice inside his head nagged, _You were just too busy looking at Lana to really look at Chloe._ He knew it was true, and it made his heart sink. How long had she felt like this? Then another thought came to mind, unbidden and painful in the guilt it rendered. All those times he had gushed to Chloe about Lana, about how he loved her and couldn't be without her … and the whole time, she never said anything.

He glanced down at his father's watch. He'd been gone too long, she was probably starting to wonder. Clark glanced at the thick black journal and waged a silent battle with himself for a few seconds. He had to know what was in those pages, because it was obvious that Chloe was never going to tell him herself. Trying not to think about what a great betrayal it was, and how everything told him that it was wrong to do so, he slid the book inside his coat. Before he could think on it too hard, he took off back to the farm.

He was so shaken that he barely stopped himself before he ran right over Chloe. She was just leaving the loft, headed toward the house, and looked just as surprised at their near wreck as he was.

"Clark," She said in a sunny voice, "There you are. Did you get it?"

He smiled and held it out to her, his voice suddenly trapped in his throat. He felt so torn, seeing her beautiful and trusting face and feeling the weight of her journal against his chest.

"Thanks, Clark," She told him, taking the computer from him, "But I guess it's gonna have to wait. Your mom just came to the barn to tell me dinner was ready."

"That's ok," he answered, his voice steady, "Maybe after dinner."

She smiled and linked her arm in his as they walked toward the house. Clark's mind was suddenly seized with the weight of her arm on his, the feel of their skin brushing. What was he going to do with all this new information? How did he feel? What was he going to do once he'd read her journal, discovered all her secrets? He was mentally damning himself for taking that book, wishing he'd just left it where it was. He had no right to take it; if Chloe wanted him to know how she felt, she would have told him. Then another thought came to mind: what if she had tried, and he'd been to stupid to listen? What if all the signs had always been right there in front of him, and he'd been to obsessed with Lana to notice?

"Earth to Clark!" Chloe's voice cut in

"What?" He asked stupidly

"You ok?" She questioned

"Yeah," He answered, trying to give his most reassuring smile, "Just spaced off for a minute."

"Well, if you're back in our orbit, you ready to eat?"

"Of course."

They all took their seats, and Clark distractedly noticed that his mother was watching him carefully. He idly wondered if his guilt was written plainly on his face, or if it was just her maternal instinct that made her suspicious. Either way, he wasn't going to give it away. She would be even more ashamed of him than he was himself, and he didn't think he could handle that at the moment.

Dinner could have lasted forever, or no more than ten minutes. He had no way of knowing, because time seemed frozen for Clark. Several times he had caught himself glancing across the table at his friend, feeling as if he was noticing her for the first time. That silky blonde hair and those piercing green eyes, the way her smile seemed to light up her whole face … Chloe was beautiful, in a way completely separate and almost exactly opposite of Lana. He'd never noticed it before, never looked long enough to actually think about it.

He was going through the motions, cleaning the dinner table, saying goodbye to Chloe and making up some excuse as to why he'd acted so weird at dinner. When he closed the door behind her retreating form, he was only a little surprised to be accosted by his mother.

"Alright, Mister," She said firmly, "Spill."

"Spill what?" He asked, trying to dodge her knowing stare

"Clark, I may not have any super powers, but I am your mother, and I know when you are hiding something."

He sighed in resignation. He had to tell her something, because she would never leave him alone if he didn't.

"Have you ever felt like you were looking at someone for the first time?" He asked finally, in a voice near a whisper

"Like there's a whole other side of them that you never noticed?" Martha shot back, "Yes."

He didn't say anything else, deciding instead to let her come to her own conclusions. After a few seconds of silence, she patted his arm and seemed content with his explanation, or lack thereof.

"Look, why don't you go to bed? I'll clean up the kitchen."

"Are you sure?" He queried

"Of course I am, Clark."

Normally he would have argued with her and stayed to help anyway, but Chloe's book was burning a hole in his chest. Trying not to appear to bothered, he made his way as quickly as he could to his room. Once the door was shut, and he could hear his mother rummaging around in the kitchen, he pulled out the object in question. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the letter out of the pages and finished reading it.

Her words, so eloquent and simple, struck a chord somewhere inside him. He had never really appreciated Chloe's talent with words, never truly felt what her words could do. Terrified of what he might find, but unable to stop himself, he opened the book to a random page and began to read.

_It gets so hard to see you with her, Clark. The way you look at her, as if the sun rises and sets for her alone. How many times I've wished to be the one on the receiving end of that look. I used to think that I would eventually die from all the pain of this unrequited love; that my frail heart would finally cease to beat for the lack of will. You'll do anything for her, no matter the cost. But you know what I've started to realize, Clark? I have something I'd like to believe, and dare to hope, that Lana never will. You may love her with all your heart, but I'm the one you run to. The one that accepted your secret and all its repercussions with a smile and understanding. I'm the one who would die before ever betraying that secret. The one that has been around to pick up the pieces every time Lana breaks your heart, the one who has waited patiently for you all this time. When we were in high school, and you left me at the spring formal to go save Lana, I thought that you had gotten scared of our almost kiss and run off. After that is when I made the decision never to tell you how I felt. But I broke that promise to myself once, when you had that fever. I came to your house and spilled everything; true, you were unconscious, but I thought maybe you would hear me anyway. And when I was done professing my undying love for you, do you know what you did? You whispered her name. That was it for me, Clark, the first time my heart was irrevocably broken. _

He glanced away from the page, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. How he must have hurt her, never knowing any of this! His beautiful Chloe, suffering all this time in silence, too proud and hurt to say anything; and he, too obtuse and selfish to notice.

He opened to another page, this one a little farther back. He glanced at the upper right corner of the page and noticed that they were all dated. The date for the entry he was looking at now was only a few days after his father's death.

_It hurts to look at you, Clark, to see all that pain emanating from your azure eyes. If only you would open up to me for just a moment, let me close enough to tell you that I'm here for you. That I know what it's like to lose a parent, to see your family seemingly fall apart around you. I could give you comfort, Clark, if ever you would let me. I'm so afraid for you; I know the all consuming grief that darkens everything. That rage that grips you and takes no prisoners. I know you think you can save everyone, but who will be there to save you? I'm still here, Clark. I'm here._

A little voice in his head told him that he was treading on new ground. There was no turning back now, no erasing her words from his mind. He didn't want to think about what would happen when Chloe found her book was missing, and that he had taken it. He wasn't sure how he would deal with that bomb when it hit, but he would figure it out.

He flipped to the last used page; there was about a quarter of the book that was still unused, and he glanced at the date of the last entry. It was today's date. Is this what Chloe had been working on when he came in? Had she purposely tried to hide the book from him? What was she writing that had caused such a look of pain on her face?

_You haunt me, Clark. There are times when you get this unfathomable look in your eyes when you look at me, and it always stops my heart. Sometimes you look at me like I'm the most precious person on earth, and I wonder what you're thinking to bring out that look. But then there's always Lana, or some interruption. Some natural disaster, or seriously misguided meteor freak, and then the moment is gone. Maybe I'm imagining it all. I've been waiting so patiently for you, Clark, waiting so long for you to see me. To really see me. But maybe that'll never happen. Not with Lana around. I'm so worn down, Clark; my very heart and soul seem to ache. And just when I think that I can move on, something happens to let me know that I still love you. That I can't imagine a world without you. Even if it is a world where I'm just your best friend, and Lana is the love of your life. I guess if that's how it has to be, I'll be the best damn best friend the world has ever seen. I just wish I could find it in me to tell you all of this, instead of writing it in this infernal book. Some way to make you see that I'm your dream girl …._

"…Masquerading as my best friend," He whispered aloud to himself

That feeling of deep restlessness erupted inside him again. He knew he was wrong for reading her private thoughts. He was certain she'd be angry, and feel betrayed. The question wasn't how Chloe felt about him, or would feel about what he'd done when she found out. The question was entirely about him. How did he feel? And what was he going to do with all his newly discovered knowledge?


	4. Chapter 4

**_Evanescence: to disappear gradually; vanish; fade away._**

Clark heard her coming before she was even fully out of her car. He stayed where he was, hands in his pocket and staring out the window. Her light footsteps rang out against the wooden stairs, but he did not turn.

"Clark?"

Her voice was unsure, apprehensive even. He picked up on it instantly, even though he knew she was trying to hide it under the music. He turned finally and captured her eyes with his, although he didn't say a word.

"Are you okay?" She continued, "You sounded … different on the phone."

He only watched her for a moment, watched the worry play across her face. He had no idea how this was going to go, and he was afraid that his voice was going to fail him if he spoke too soon.

"Is this the song that was playing in your apartment the other day?" He asked instead

She looked surprised at the question, but held her breath and listened anyway.

_Do you know where your heart is_

_Do you think you can find it_

_Or did you trade it for something, somewhere_

_Better just to have it_

_Do you know where your love is _

_Do you think that you lost it_

_You felt it so strong but _

_Nothing's turned out how you wanted_

"Yeah, it's the same song," She replied, the confusion evident on her face, "But what does that have to do with anything? You're scaring me, Clark. Is something wrong?"

"I've made a terrible mistake, Chloe," He said softly, evenly

He approached her slowly, coming to stop only about a foot in front of her. Close enough to touch, but far enough that she didn't feel trapped.

"Mistake? What mistake?" She questioned

Clark took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never. No matter what happened from here on out, it was going to forever change both of their lives.

"I'm not who you think I am," He nearly whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, "In fact, my disguise is so thin I'm surprised you haven't seen right through me."

She caught her breath in what could have been a sob, the realization dawning on her in an instant. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She didn't move, didn't even look away.

"Clark, how could you know those words …" She trailed off, the question dying on her lips, "My journal."

"I'm sorry, Chloe. I know it was wrong of me."

"Is that why I haven't seen or heard from you in a week?"

She was stalling, trying to change the subject and draw him away from it. Her face looked frightened, tortured even. He reached out and took her small hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Chloe, why didn't you say something?"

She turned away from him then, a tear rolling down her porcelain cheek.

"Why Clark? So you can tell me that you're in love with Lana? So that you can verbally break my heart?"

The pain was evident in her voice, a pain that he had caused. He closed the distance between them and put a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. She tried to look down and away, but he hooked a finger under her chin and made her look into his eyes. She was crying full on now, unable to stop or hide the tears.

"I'm sorry I've caused you so much pain, Chlo'," He said gently, "And I know that I shouldn't have read your journal, but I'm glad I did. I called you because we need to talk."

"It's okay, Clark, you don't need to sugar coat it for me. I'm a big girl now."

"I'm not gonna lie and say I don't love Lana, Chloe; that wouldn't be fair to you. But we've all grown up, and growing up involves change. That love has changed too. Lana was my first love, my first heart break. I have always and will always be there when she needs me. But you were right when you said that I run to you. I trust you with everything, Chlo, and you mean more to me than you know. More than I've ever told you. I can make it without Lana because I have you. But I couldn't survive without you, Chloe. I can't imagine my life without you."

She smiled at him, that same sad smile that he had seen so many times.

"I'll be the best friend you've ever had," She told him, her voice breaking

"I don't want that, Chlo," He said gently, "I love you. As more than a friend. I can do anything, as long as you're by my side. All those times you've caught me looking at you like you were the most precious person in the world, that's exactly what I was thinking. That I would be nowhere without you, without your patience and your love."

He could see the fear in her face, the terror that this was all some kind of a trick. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I spent so much time looking at Lana that I didn't see you, Chloe," He confessed, laying it all out on the line

"This isn't real," She said, closing her eyes, "This is some dream or some kind of trick."

"Look at me."

She did as he said, emerald eyes glittering with their tears. He laid his hand against her cheek and smiled when she leaned into his touch. Slowly, giving her an out if she chose one, he bent and pressed a kiss to her lips. For just a moment she didn't react; then she was giving herself up completely to it, kissing him back with all the intensity in her petite form. When they broke apart she took a deep, shuddering breath.

"You swear you're the real Clark Kent?" She queried

"I swear," He answered with a chuckle, "It's real. I mean it, Chloe. I'm sorry I hurt you so much, and made you wait so long."

"That's okay," She replied, "It was worth the wait."


End file.
